


Getting Dangerous

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Accident-Prone!Launchpad, Ambiguous Relationships, Arguing, Concerned!Drake, Crime Fighting, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Worry, no shooting actually occurs within the body of this fic, there are guns and shooting mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-31 00:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Launchpad lets slip that he’s been shot at (and shot) before, and Drake isn’t about to let it happen again.





	Getting Dangerous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ForFucksSakeJim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForFucksSakeJim/gifts).



> This was actually supposed to be an entirely different fic, but sometimes shit goes down ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“This way!”

The cry tore from Launchpad’s beak as he reached out blindly behind him for Drake’s hand. They rounded the corner together, and Launchpad turned and grabbed Drake in a full-body grapple, diving down behind a dumpster. He hardly felt the impact of the hard ground between the extra padding provided by his jacket and the adrenaline rushing through his system. 

On the street they’d just gotten away from, the sound of heavy footsteps pounded past and then receded, leaving nothing but the sounds of night in the city. 

Launchpad held his breath, even after the villains that had been chasing them had vanished into the darkness. That had been too close. 

“That was too close,” Drake finally whispered, voicing Launchpad’s thoughts aloud. He was good at that. They both had a similar thought process— or at least, they did when it came to anything Darkwing-related. Otherwise, Launchpad often went on long tangents that Drake always said he couldn’t ever predict. 

_ Focus.  _

“Yeah,” Launchpad agreed, finally letting his breath out in a  _ whoosh.  _ It made the brim of Drake’s hat flap a little; even in the dim lighting, it was just bright enough for Launchpad to watch it happen. “But we lost ‘em.”

Carefully, Drake nudged at Launchpad’s arms, and Launchpad obediently loosened them and then let him go. Drake rolled easily off of Launchpad’s broader form and stood, brushing his suit clean. “For now,” he murmured, glancing up nervously at the mouth of the alleyway. 

Launchpad sat up, watching Drake with no small amount of concern. “Hey, it’s alright, DW.”

With a frustrated sigh, Drake reached for his mask briefly, only to drop his hand in agitation. Launchpad was glad he chose to keep the mask on; even if they thought they were alone, it would be awful if someone came upon them and realised who the new masked hero really was. That was what a secret identity was for! (At least, he was pretty sure. The original Darkwing Duck hadn’t  _ had  _ a secret identity, so Launchpad was admittedly less well-versed with the concept than with most other aspects of a comic hero’s life.)

“We’re supposed to be  _ stopping _ the crime-doing mongrels.” Drake straightened his hat, looking less like he needed it straightened and more like he needed something to do with his hands. “Not letting them chase us into dumpsters because we’re  _ afraid  _ of them.”

“We’re not in the dumpsters!”  _ This time.  _ “Look, those guys had guns. Big, real guns that could have really hurt you. Or me. Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve been shot before, and it’s really not fun.”

Drake’s head whipped up, the now-straightened hat falling crookedly back down from the movement. “What?!”

Launchpad blinked at him. “We’re not in the dumpsters?” he supplied. 

Drake shook his head slowly. “After that.”

“They have big guns?”

“Keep going, LP.”

Launchpad replayed what he’d just said back in his head. “I’ve been shot before and it’s not fun?”

“Bingo.” Drake frowned deeply. “You’ve been  _ shot _ before?”

With a huff of nervous laughter, Launchpad awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well… yeah. I’ve been adventuring for years, trying to be like the first… y’know, like  _ Darkwing _ , and I’ve gotten in lots of trouble, even before I met Mister McDee and the kids.”

Drake offered Launchpad a hand up, which he gladly accepted. “Yeah, alright. Trouble, I can see? But getting  _ shot?  _ That’s a bit of a step up from just mere  _ trouble.”  _

Launchpad began to brush himself off, wincing when he bent and the action made his back twinge with pain. With the adrenaline wearing off, the impact he’d had with the hard ground seemed to be catching up to him. “Sometimes trouble has a gun,” he said with a shrug. “I’m alright, though, DW.”

There was a strange expression on Drake’s face, even with the mask obscuring his most prominent features from Launchpad’s line of sight. 

“Besides,” Launchpad added uncertainly. “It’s not like I’m the only one that’s ever been shot before. Tons of people get shot all the time.”

Drake turned away rapidly, so quickly that his cape made a snappy little  _ swish  _ sound that might’ve been exciting to Launchpad if Drake hadn’t seemed so… upset. “We should turn in for the night.” His voice was slightly strangled, like he was holding himself back. Launchpad blinked. 

“Hey, no, we— we’ve only been on patrol for a couple hours,” he protested, ignoring the ache in his spine and stepping towards Drake. “We have a city to protect, DW.” He grabbed Drake’s shoulder, attempting to… convince him, maybe, or just to turn him around so that he couldn’t hide behind the cape and the mask —because Launchpad  _ knew  _ the duck behind the mask, and right now it was  _ Drake  _ that seemed to need him, not Darkwing— but Drake shrugged the hand away just as quickly as Launchpad could reach for him. Hurt, Launchpad let the hand drop back down to his side. 

“I’m not about to put you in any more danger,” Drake said. His voice was thin, like if Launchpad put any pressure on him at all, it would crack and break. “Let’s go home.”

Launchpad frowned. He set his feet on the grimy concrete beneath them and shook his head once, firmly. “No.”

Drake still didn’t look at him. “No?”

“Yeah,” Launchpad replied. “No. We’re not going home until you tell me why you’re acting so…  _ weird,  _ all of a sudden.”

Silence persisted between them for all of ten seconds before Drake turned around, his cape swishing and his hat damn near falling off his head. “You’ve been  _ shot  _ before, LP!”

That… had nothing to do with anything? “And?”

Drake heaved out a breath. “And! I’m not going to let that happen again on my watch!” 

“I’m capable of watching out for myself,” Launchpad retorted. “I know I’m clumsy and don’t always…  _ seem  _ like it, but I’m not stupid, DW.”

There was something heavy in the air, something that Launchpad was only just tuning into. It felt so wrong, to fight with Drake like this. But it  _ also _ felt wrong to let Drake treat him like a hatchling. 

To his credit, Drake drew back like he’d been slapped at the statement, and even in the low light, Launchpad could see his eyes go wide beneath his mask. “That’s not what I meant at all!” Before Launchpad could even process it, Drake broke the odd tension and rushed forward, crossing the space between them to lay a hand on Launchpad’s arm. “Launchpad, I don’t think you’re stupid. I could  _ never  _ think you’re stupid.” He tilted his head, craning his neck to look up at Launchpad, and Launchpad automatically caught the brim of the Darkwing hat between his fingers before it could slide off of Drake’s head. “I just… I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re… You’re very important to me. I can’t stand the thought of you being injured,  _ especially  _ if it’s because of me. This whole  _ superhero  _ gig is more dangerous than I ever thought it would be, and—“

“We knew it was going to be dangerous,” Launchpad finally interrupted, because there was absolutely no way he was about to stand idly by with his beak shut and listen to Darkwing Duck —to _Drake Mallard—_ doubt himself. “That’s why we’re here. As long as we’re around—“ And even in the heat of this moment with the tenseness still dissipating around them, Launchpad found himself feeling a little lightheaded at the fact that he and _Darkwing Duck_ were a _we_. “—the world is a little less dangerous for everyone else. That’s why _we_ _chose_ to get dangerous: So that nobody else has to.”

For a moment, Drake just continued to stare at Launchpad, as though he was searching for something in his eyes. Launchpad widened his eyes as wide as he could, trying his best to prove his conviction. 

“If you get hurt,” Drake finally said quietly, with a thread of desperation behind his words. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“I know what I’ll do,” Launchpad said matter-o-factly. “I’ll get someone to patch me up, and then I’ll probably crash something afterwards.”

A strangled, choked-off laugh snorted its way from Drake’s beak. Launchpad grinned. He was always more than a little proud when he managed to catch Drake off-guard with his own personal brand of unwitting humour. 

“Seriously, though, DW.” Launchpad sobered again, just enough to look serious once more. “I know how much trouble we might get into. I’ve gotten into lots of trouble on my own just from  _ trying  _ to be like… you know. It’s important that we do this. If we’re not out here, then who else is?”

“Gizmoduck,” Drake muttered sullenly after a moment, and this time, it was Launchpad who had to choke on a laugh. 

The fight of only a few moments ago felt like it had taken place in some kind of strange, alternate dimension. (And maybe it had, Launchpad theorised somewhere in the back of his mind. Maybe they’d been briefly transported to an alternate universe, just like Darkwing Duck had been in the fourteenth episode of the second season! Wouldn’t  _ that  _ have been a trip!) Drake squeezed Launchpad’s arm gently before pulling away from him, and Launchpad straightened his hat for him, since the silly thing had been trying so hard to escape since they’d landed in the alley. 

“I know you’ve got my back,” Launchpad said as he brushed a bit of dirt carefully from Drake’s hat. “And I’ve got yours. We’re a team.”  _ Don’t faint, Launchpad, don’t faint!  _ “Me getting shot in the past has nothing to do with it, alright?”

Drake looked up at him again with a faint smile on his beak. Launchpad was pleased to see that his hat was  _ finally  _ staying put. “Alright, alright. I overreacted. I’m just— I worry.”

His back protesting again, Launchpad stretched out, wincing a little until a significant popping sound made him sigh in relief. He’d just knocked something out of place, then. He could handle that. (He was glad it wasn’t something worse; he wasn’t sure if Drake would’ve been very happy about it,  _ especially  _ with how much he already worried.) “You don’t gotta worry about me, DW. I’m like a super ball… I always bounce back.” He grinned at Drake, who was now watching him with a bemused expression. 

“I’m probably still going to worry,” he pointed out. Launchpad shrugged. 

“That’s probably fair.” He jerked a thumb towards the mouth of the alley. “You ready to get back out there?”

For all of his protestation, Drake  _ obviously  _ wanted to continue their patrol. It was clear in the way he straightened his back and got that Darkwing glint in his eye. “Ready when you are.”

Launchpad grinned. “I was born ready.”

Drake met his gaze for a moment. “Let’s get dangerous,” he said, and Launchpad  _ just  _ caught the barest hint of a smirk before Drake swept his cape through the air and rushed off in a blur of dark purple towards the street. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’d apologise for the weird hyper-fixation on Darkwing’s hat but at this point I don’t know if anyone gives a shit. 
> 
> Kudos/comments are love! Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans.


End file.
